


Debt

by Said_no_one_at_all



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Said_no_one_at_all/pseuds/Said_no_one_at_all





	1. Chapter 1

Lady Brienne uttered an impossible sentence and it seemed all the air in the world had been sucked out. “She’s alive.”  
Somehow he always pictured her just vanishing into the ether. He couldn’t bear to think of all the brutal possibilities, raped, beaten, enslaved, most likely dead. Any of them could have happened and it would have been his fault. Any blemishes upon her were his fault. It was his weakness and failure that left her out in the world and vulnerable. Despite all this, she lived. She’d found her way back home, alone. A warmth settled in his chest he was unfamiliar with. The little wolf ended up being stronger than he thought, stronger than him. Maybe stronger than them all.  
He listened as they strode along. The girl was dangerous and clearly spooked Brienne and her knightly sensibilities. He wore his lopsided smirk as they walked. That girl was something. Not another one like her, though two of them might signal the end times. They continued to the dragon pits in comfortable silence, nothing else need be said between them.


	2. Chapter 2

Throughout his trials her presence was never far from his thoughts. He tried to explain to himself why she lingered upon his mind despite her being a right pain in the arse sometimes. Why was it her face he saw when he dreamed, her voice he heard in the blistering winds? He had much to make amends for in his life but his failure to keep her safe seemed the chief among them.   
Sandor had tried in the only ways he knew how to help her sister but he was too coarse and not accustomed to little birds too afraid of their own shadows. But not the wolf bitch, he’d seen her in the crowd when he had to stand there as her daddy’s head was cleaved from his shoulders. He said nothing of her presence even though he’d wished she’d looked away.  
Ned Stark was unbearably good and certainly didn’t deserve his fate, not that a dog had any say in such matters. The man had tried to do what was right and honorable even if it meant his head, never faltering in his convictions. Stubborn to the point of fault. That may have been the way of things in the north. Honor. Responsibility. Not in King’s Landing, there was no place for such lofty ideals and Lord Stark didn’t last long amongst the lions den.   
His daughter was just as stubborn, her ideals were a little looser than her father’s, less idealistic but if a line had been crossed she wouldn’t back down. Got him stuck more than once because she wouldn’t let it go but he respected that little iron backbone of hers. She wouldn’t be pushed or swayed, frightened into submission like her sister. No, the girl had teeth and she bared them at him without so much as a blink of an eye.  
She didn’t fear him, always looking him straight in the face as if he wasn’t a burnt scarred thing. She might have been the only one the didn’t flinch at the sight of him. A little wolf , little more than child. No that wasn’t true. She was nearly a woman grown. Small perhaps, but deadly. Even then she held her own when they got into scrapes.   
He thought perhaps snatching her the way he did, when the gods so graciously brought them near, he might try do what he couldn’t do for her sister or her father. He’d spent all his life being told what he should do, who he should kill. Blind obedience, he didn’t ask why and did as he was told. It wasn’t until the black water when his soul could take no more. People dead, dying, burning and for what? So some inbred monster could keep a crown that never should have been on his head to begin with. He’d been party to that boy’s depravity for too long and he couldn’t abide another minute as Joffrey’s dog.  
He thought keeping her safe might help him find his own peace but it only ate his soul more when he failed her. Screaming her name from bottom of the cliff as she strode fiercely from his life. He never thought they’d cross paths again.  
Life is a funny thing. Good men died for honorable causes and he continued to go on. A half mad dog, scarred and ugly not only in countenance but in manner who never questioned the awful deeds he was ordered to commit, yet he lived. And now he knew she did too.   
He didn’t know what would become of himself after the winter. He’d always had a purpose, to guard, to protect, to fight. He had no desire to sit in his family’s wretched keep surrounded by ghosts, getting fat and lazy. She had been his purpose before, perhaps she could be again. Afterall, she was a highborn lady, a king’s sister. A lady of her rank and nobility should be protected.   
Sandor made his way to the bastard boy king, he had an proposition to discuss.


	3. Chapter 3

Sandor made his way to Jon Snow’s tent barging in on probably what was the seventh war counsel of the day. The group broke up upon his entrance and the men grumbled and groused as they filed out of the tent. The king sunk down on a chair and sighed, “Something I can do for you Clegane?”  
“What do you plan to do after all this shit is over?”, Sandor asked as he looked at the roof of the tent evading Jon’s perplexed stare.  
“Truthfully, haven’t planned that far. My main concern is just trying to keep the dead at bay. Why? Something troubling you?”  
“Just want to know what my place is after all this is done.”  
“ I don’t think now is the time for this, but your brother for all intents is dead and that makes you heir to your house. After this is over you can do as you wish, you’ll have your family’s title and lands at your disposal. What you decide to do after that is your choice.”  
“ I could give two shits about that hell hole, raze it to the ground for all I care.”  
“Then what do you want?”, sighed Jon as he leaned back in the chair watching the surly behemoth pace his tent like a caged tiger.  
“ I want a job to do.”  
“Such as? Kings guard ? Master of arms? I can’t say for sure what positions I’ll have to offer but know there will be place for you when all this is done.” Jon was sincere in his offer but wasn’t sure what else to say ease Clegane’s mind.  
“Make me a shield.”  
“You want to be my shield?” Jon raised an eyebrow.  
“Pssh not yours, no offense your grace but I don’t intend to stand behind a throne again. Your sister on the other hand is without a shield. A lady of her station should have her own guard.”  
“Brienne has sworn to act as shield for both my sisters I don’t know that there’s need.”  
“Brienne is loyal but only Sansa accepts her as a shield, she’s too spooked by Arya to guard her properly.”  
“Ah, I thought it would be Sansa you wished to swear to but it’s Arya your after.” Jon smirked. “ I don’t think Arya needs or wants a shield to follow her every move.”  
“Aye she’s no shrinking violet but she’s still a lady and her little antics with Baelish didn’t warm anyone to her cause. That makes her a target. Brienne can’t do Sansa’s bidding and watch Arya’s back. Besides she can be a vicious little thing when she wants to be. She needs someone who isn’t afraid of her teeth.” Sandor crossed his arms over his chest and hmphed. “Besides I owe the girl, least I can do is watch her back.”  
“Alright then, but it’s your funeral. I am not responsible for what Arya does to you if she decides to try and do away with you.” Jon said as he clasped Sandor on the shoulder as he made his way out of the tent


	4. Chapter 4

It was a long journey to Winterfell. Too much chattering from the cold, nothing but hard packed ice on the ground and it was only going to get worse. Sometimes Clegane wondered if he hadn’t been better off at the bottom of the cliff, but those thoughts were fleeting. He remembered he had a job to do, a purpose he himself had chosen, unlike so many requirements he had been bade to perform. So he trudged among keeping his cloak pulled tight as they moved slowly north.  
Suddenly the great walls and parapets came into view all covered in a dusting of white in contrast to the grey skies. He got a chill as they passed through the gates that didn’t come from the howling winds. The last time he came through this gate was the beginning of many terrible things, things that were still happening. He hoped that this time passing the threshold would signal the beginning of the end of the terrible streak that started here.  
It was not what it once was but it was a functional fortification, defendable and secure. His soldier’s mind thanking the gods for at least this small favor. There was no grand entrance for the king of the North. Last time Sandor had seen him in this place he’d been just a bastard boy off to castle black.   
Little bird appeared at the doors of the keep. She was much changed as well. Not dressed in her flowery doll like dresses and fancy braids. She looked just as dark and serious as her brother. She was still fine featured but less doe and more wolf. He’d heard about the atrocities committed against her and how she exacted her own justice for it. It was hard lesson learned but she no longer cowered.  
The She-wolf was nowhere to be seen. Probably sharpening her blades in the shadows if Brienne was to be believed. Still there was a small pit in his stomach, just about her size, that was disappointed she hadn’t been the one to walk down those steps and greet her brother. Was she still a tiny scrap of a girl? She was a woman grown, how much had that changed her? Would she look upon him as she always had or had their parting changed things.  
He had said cruel things to her in his agony, none of which he meant. He hoped it hadn’t made poisoned the gaze of the only person who didn’t just see his scars. He needed to stop worrying about it, he was himself and she was still the wolf bitch, she probably didn’t even care. He was most likely just a footnote in her journeys. Highborn ladies need not concern themselves with the wistful thoughts of old dogs.


	5. Chapter 5

He did not see her that night when there was a small feast held in the great hall to welcome them, nor did he see her the next day. He had begun to think maybe she wasn’t there at all except for her brother mentioning her name to their sister. No she was there somewhere, obviously she wasn’t in the mood to be seen.   
He had been told about the faceless men and Arya learning their tricks but what he didn’t pay attention to was the timid servant that brought his ale, the old crone sweeping his hall, nor the stable boy that he walked in on tending his horse. No, he paid them no mind at all. He didn’t pay attention at all until the fifth day when that same stable boy heaved a snowball at the back of his head.  
“You little fucker,” the big man grumbled as knocked the snow from his head and off his shoulder. Then another hit and then another in rapid succession.  
“That’s it, yer getting yer ears boxed for that.”   
The stable boy grinned and bolted towards the stable, Sandor still had a half lame leg but quickly followed the boy, only he wasn’t there. In his place leaned against a post with her arms firmly crossed was one smirking wolf girl, holding what looked to be a piece of flesh in her hand.  
Sandor looked her over, still confused before all the pieces clicked.  
“Why, you little bitch.”  
“I see your just as daft as ever dog.” And with that Arya turned on her heel and left the stables leaving Sandor staring at the post, melting snow trickling down his neck, wondering what the fuck just happened.  
Later that evening he found himself deeper in his cups than he had been in a while. Maybe he hadn’t been this drunk since he left King’s Landing. Maybe. Drinking had eased the mind of the horrors he had been party to but it had been a long while since he tried to silence them. The girl had ripped open a festering wound and she didn’t even know it. He knew it wouldn’t be drunk away but he did it anyways until he felt the weight of a small body settled itself on the bench next to him.  
He turned his head to meet eyes the color of valyrian steel. He grunted and returned to his cup, looking straight ahead. She sat there quietly and watched as he continued to drink. The uncomfortable silence between them lingered for what seemed like hours if only minutes. Finally he could stand no more.  
“You’re staring girl.”  
“Yes.”  
“What for, not like you don’t know my ugly mug.”  
“Not often I see a dead man walking and talking, much less drinking up all the good ale in the house,” she said as she leaned her body against the side of the table top.  
He hadn’t gotten a good look at her before, too stunned by her stunt to utter an intelligible sentence much less pay attention to her appearance. She had the look of a predator about her, no longer a feral little pup. Her eyes were sharp and she’d lost someone of the childish roundness to her face but was still small. She was fair and dark all at the same time. Where once she had looked like girlish boy she now looked dangerously beautiful even if she did try and stamp it down with boyish clothes. He was proper fucked and he knew it. He ground his jaw back and forth as he pondered the contents of his cup.  
She continued to stare at him tilting her head as if she were considering something. Then suddenly she rose,”I’m glad your not dead,” was all she said before she turned and left. He stared at the spot she had inhabited for the better part of an hour. Whatever was stirring inside him was running circles. He needed to drown whatever it was and quickly.   
The world is on the edge of disaster and here Sandor Clegane’s guts are fluttering like a green boy, the end is truly near.


	6. Chapter 6

Sandor woke to a rolling stomach, a pounding head and a mouth that made him think he must have eaten something dead in his drunken stupor. Last night’s poor judgment was likely to punish him for days to come. Just as he was scrubbing the sleep from his face there was an obnoxiously loud series of bangs at his chamber door. It was as if someone had a death wish, the sound instantly stroking his irritation into a roaring fire.  
“What the fuck!” Sandor strode to the door, his long stride taking him there in 3 strides before he nearly ripped it off its hinges.  
“ I said what.The.Fuck.” The Hound threw the door open to find Brianne of Fucking Tarth herself with a raised eyebrow looking terribly put upon. Sandor hmphed and slumped against the door frame. “What do you want?” He asked as he rubbed his brow while trying to quell the urge chuck his evening meal upon her greaves.  
“The king has sent me to fetch you. Apparently there is some business he wants to discuss with you. I believe he wishes you to come to the council chamber at your earliest convenience.” With that she gave a curt nod and backed away before turning down the hall to attend her own affairs.  
He wished he would have just stayed drunk. What was he thinking coming up here. He did what he was supposed to do when he went across the wall to grab that undead creature he hauled around in a box, that he knew for sure, but this was just the dumbest shit he’d ever done. Following her up here. Before the big bitch opened her mouth about the girl he no intention of putting himself into service again.   
Now that he’d seen her he knew he was well and truly fucked beyond repair. The warm feelings he held for her he always explained with her strength, ferocity, the fact that in general she hadn’t been ruined with courtly manners, chained to dumb ideas about what she was capable of. She was special and so he could always explain to himself why he felt the need to keep by her side. She was too rare a creature to be left unprotected, even if she was a half feral bitch with a blade.  
But gods, it was if the stranger had dipped inside his heart and made her just for him, just to tempt him to death. His dark and beautiful little killer, exacting her own justice by her own hand. He had ignored her growing into herself when they traveled. It was easier to think of her just as a child, but those days had long since passed.   
He wasn’t a lust filled whore monger like Bronn and never had issue quelling his baser needs. No woman’s blood ever ran hot for him, just for his coin and he could never push himself on the unwilling like his brother. But her, the wolffish girl, she would tempt what little he had left of his soul. He should tell her brother he’d changed his mind about becoming her shield, tell him he couldn’t stomach being saddled with her, the pain in the ass she was known to be. Best get it over with quickly, say he’d remembered how she worked his nerves and now thought better than to be stuck with her.  
He dressed quickly considering he slept in his tunic and breeches barely managing to get his boots off before he passed out the night before. He stomped down the halls, grumbling as he went, trying to piece together exactly what his complaints would be against her. If he put an end to this now he might not make a fool of himself. Before he knew it he was at the chamber door. He paused for a moment straightening his brigandine before entering, fully prepared to start bitching about the wolf girl only to find her engaged in a staring contest with her brother.   
“Clegane,” Jon greeted him with a nod, breaking away from his sister’s gaze. “You’ll have to forgive my sister, as you well know manners aren’t her strong suit.”  
Sandor merely hmmphed in response.  
“It seems I’m going to need you to take the position we spoke about earlier than expected, my sister has decided to accompany us back to Dragonstone.” Jon slumped into his chair but kept his eyes on Arya.  
Sandor thought he might break into a cold sweat. “ What? Why? That wasn’t what we talked about Your Grace. I am not suitable for a lady, it should be someone else, I was just coming to tell you as much, besides she’s a right pain in the ass, an irritation I don’t need.” Sandor was nearly stumbling over his words.  
Now it was Arya’s turn to look confused, “What position? What’s he blathering about ?”  
Jon Snow looked back and forth at them, darting from one to the other before he spoke again. “Clegane I trust you to do what you said you would. I’ve always been told that you didn’t make promises because you weren’t one to break them. I trust you to be a man of your word, a word I will hold you to because my sister is most precious to me,” he continued while Arya rolled her eyes. “Take your position, this is not a request.”  
“ Fuck it,” the big man grumbled as he flourished his sword from its sheath and knelt before Lady Arya Stark and pledged himself and his sword to her service as she gawked in wide eyed disbelief.


	7. Chapter 7

The she wolf didn’t take kindly to her new shield. Her brother had accepted Clegane on her behalf because she was too dumbstruck to tell him to fuck off much less say the words of acceptance. She threatened to demonstrate her skills at ending lives as proof that she needed no such thing as her own guard, she would start with him for convenience sake. He only gave a muffled laugh in response.  
And so he followed her. Everywhere she went he was there. She’d never realized what a gift he had for stealth until now. She’d always thought him big, brutish, lacking in grace. Big and strong but loud and clumsy. Yet every time she tried to slip from him he found her, his imposing form a shadow upon her back wherever she went.  
He practically blocked out the sun as tall and as broad as he was, she hadn’t grown much more since they parted and it was an annoyance to her that he still towered over her. Everyone else seemed a little less imposing, held a little less awe now that she had grown and traveled the Narrow Sea. He was still the biggest man she’d laid eyes on besides his walking corpse of a brother.  
She kept stealing glances of him over her shoulder, wishing he’d find something else to take up his time, but no. It was impossible to slip between shadows, take in the conversations and doings of others while she had The Hound forever on her tail.  
Finally she could take no more and turned on heel and glared before speaking, “Why?”. She crossed her arms and huffed petulantly.  
“Why what Milady?” He asked in his deep gruff voice as if it was the most innocent question in the world.  
“This shield bullshit, you know what. I have no need of a shield. I can handle myself just fine without your help, if I couldn’t I wouldn’t be here now. Whatever you think you’re doing, whatever agreement you made with my brother, end it now. Maybe you should help keep an eye on my sister, I’m sure you’d like that position much better.”  
“I’m not your sister’s shield nor your brothers. I am yours. Bitch as much as you like little wolf it changes nothing. You won’t be rid of me as easily as before so get used to seeing my ugly face wherever you go, my lady.”  
He stood stock straight looking rather pleased with himself, feeling more in control of himself in that moment than he had since he’d learned she lived. This only infuriated her more and damned if she didn’t half attempt to stomp on his toes as she’d pushed passed him, intent on finding a locked door to put between them. He just smirked at his small victory to himself and turned to follow his mistress wherever she ventured.


	8. Chapter 8

There was a good week of preparation before they left for Dragonstone and Sandor continued to trail Arya Stark like a large shadow. She balked at his presence and continued to complain incessantly that he was not needed. She had survived all on her own for years, she did not require his services now nor ever. Yet he was vigilant. His smirking face was the first she saw when she left her room and the last she saw before she sequestered herself alone at night.   
She couldn’t explain why but it enraged her. She had the compelling urge to bludgeon him every morning when she opened her door and he was standing guard. As if she needed someone to protect her virtue. She snarled and hissed at him and while plenty of men cowered at the sharpness of her tongue he seemed more amused than troubled by all the ways she described ending his existence. Gods she wanted to slap that lopsided smirk he wore when he greeted her as “my lady”.  
He knew she hated it and still he continued to address her by her proper title and made sure to correct anyone who was remiss to remember it themselves. Gods she hated him. He knew he was pissing her off and he was revelling in it. Was this her punishment? To be saddled with the man she’d abandoned and left for dead. Maybe that ice breathing dragon would like an afternoon snack?

Oh the she-wolf was right pissy these days. She was so indignant about the situation. She glared, scowled, hissed and spat like an angry cat but she couldn’t do anything about it. That was the best part. Pissing her off was the brightest parts of his days. The color would rise in her cheeks when she’d turn to throw another death glare at him, hurl another insult at him. He rather enjoyed her discomfort.   
He remembered when they traveled before, she was a handful then. She was ten fold that now. He was alright with that though, he was glad she hadn’t crumbled under the weight of all the terrible things that had come her way. She was strong, albeit uncouth, not unlike himself, just smaller.   
He found himself staring at her when he should be watching the goings on around her. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what she looked like but still he kept getting distracted by her. Her skin was fair and clear, not covered in dirt and blood as it had been the last he saw her. She certainly could no longer pass as a squire or stable boy. She still wore boyish clothes but they could no longer hide the shape of her. That was line of thought he needed to tamp down. A woman grown she was but she was still the wolf pup he’d carried around the countryside kicking and snarling. The one he cradled in his arms after the twins. What creature she’d turned out to be. A fierce little wolf-bitch. His fierce little  
Wolf bitch. Wait, when did she become his?


	9. Chapter 9

It’s like a chill had come over the keep. Even her shadow had become darker and quieter. She was even starting to miss the constant sniping at him but since he barely spoke now she had nothing to snipe about. He stayed as close as ever but now he only grunted and hmphed when she spoke. It was off putting to say the least. The chill and foreboding.  
It was nearing time to depart for Dragonstone, her brother finally admitted defeat in trying to persuade her to stay. The final preparations were being made and she went to down to the stable to check on her mare. Sandor had been called by her brother to a meeting before their journey so she was slipped off on her own, blessedly unaccompanied. Her grey dappled mare knickered at her presence. Stroking her mare’s neck she took in the sights and scents of the stable she spent so much time in as a child. That’s when she noticed it. Her tack was missing and in its place was a brand new finely made saddle and bridle.  
Heavy footsteps advanced upon the wooden plank floor of the stable. She’d know his stride in her sleep. “What is my brother up to?”  
“ We leave in the morning,” he grumbled, “First light, make the most of the daylight to travel.”  
“Guess I don’t have time to figure out who fucked with my horses tack.”Arya sighed as she gave her mare one last scratch by the ear.  
“That’s easy enough,” Sandor leaned against the stall door. “ It was me, that saddle was shite, it won’t do for a long journey and I don’t want my lady complaining about her sore ass half-way through the trip.”  
“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my things, I rode that saddle all the way back after I landed from Braavos, it was fine.”  
“It was shit.”  
“I hate you.”  
“So you’ve said, you have three choices.” Sandor pulled himself to his full height. “Ride that saddle and quit bitching or stay home like a good little lady or ride with me like a child since you enjoy acting like one.”  
“‘Gods, you are the worst shit in the seven kingdoms!”  
“Don’t care, you’re not riding that shite saddle to dragonstone.”  
“The saddle isn’t the point!”  
“Then what the fuck is the point, what can I do to appease my ladyship, what would make her happy enough to quit being a sullen bitch all the time? Oh right. Nothing.”  
Arya was fuming. “You sack of shit!” She growled at him before punching him in the gut, only she’d forgotten. He always wears mail and there’s plate in his gambeson. She barely made a murmur, accustomed to keeping her pains to herself as to not give away an advantage in a fight. She pulled her knuckles back to herself, tightly, before turning on her heel to retreat.  
Sandor started to chuckle at her folly before he could stop himself. But as he watched her cradle her hand as rushed out of the stable he realized his error.  
“Girl. . .,” he called after her but she was gone without a word. “Well shit”


	10. Chapter 10

Sandor tried to follow her but even with his long determined strides, she was too quick and he lost her out in the open. He went to her chamber door but it was closed and she did not answer when he called to her. This wasn’t new, she usually attempted to ignore him as much as possible. All he could do was stay at his post, not that he was even sure she was in there. The day ran on, but her chambers were quiet, as they always were. He called to her one last time at dusk, the evening meal being laid out, but still silence.  
She hid in her chambers, bruised hand and bruised ego. Despite her training she’d lost her temper and that wouldn’t do. Letting her facade of a serene and peaceful hand of the many faced god slip was dangerous. She couldn’t help it though, he always did that to her. He always managed to dig into the raw parts of her and she’d react without thinking it through. Like punching steel plate and mail with her bare knuckles.  
It wasn’t that she really liked the saddle, she’d taken it with the horse and it served its purpose. But why did he feel it was any of his business meddling in her affairs. She didn’t need him acting like he was her Septa. Telling her what’s best for her. How would he know?Her saddle. Her horse. Her business.   
She wasn’t his business anymore, that stopped at the bottom of the cliff. Yet here he was, trying to run her as if she was still the girl he snatched in the woods. Her hand ached something fierce. Stupid. She’d even busted the skin on one of her knuckles. It hadn’t bled much but she knew she was likely to split it open again if she spared. Stupid. Just stupid.  
She never appeared that night. He went back to his spot in front of her door for a few more hours before he turned in. He’d have a early morning. He needed to make sure his lady’s belongings were packed up properly, that her horse was fed, watered and saddled properly, he’d do that himself, the stable boys were near useless here. Then he would have to make sure his lady was all fed and dressed for the journey. That is, if he could find her. Maybe she’d change her mind and stay home, no, she wouldn’t she was too stubborn.   
Arya woke to the sound of his voice booming through the thick oak door of her chamber. She needed to rouse herself. She waited a moment before she heard his steps lumber down the hall. It was still early and aside those who were departing everyone else was asleep. She Quickly dressed in her normal attire, she sent her pack of belongings down the day before so the could be packed in the baggage train. She’d keep her own small pack on her, a few knives, potions, herbs and a face or two, for emergencies of course.   
She took the back corridors slipping in and out of shadows as she tried to avoid her own, until she made it to the courtyard bustling in the waning twilight. It was cool, crisp, the dampness of the air giving her a chill. She caught sight of her horse already saddled, frowning she made her way over to her mare. The stable boy was young and meant well but he wasn’t very good at his job. She probably need to resaddle her horse, but alas it was done properly. She scratched her mare and got ready to mount when she heard him behind her.  
“You been to the kitchens yet?” He grumbled as she put her foot in her stirrup and threw she leg over her horse.  
“Not hungry.” She said dismissively as she settled upon her new saddle.  
“My lady should eat something before the journey, your brother is planning to make the most of the daylight we have to travel, there won’t be time to make stops once you get hungry.” He said as he adjusted a strap on her saddle. That’s when he finally caught sight of her bruised hand, which he instinctively grabbed to inspect. She tried pulling but his large paws had always been hard to escape.   
“Girl,”He said with his brow furrowed.She could tell by his movements he way checking for breaks, she knew there was none.  
“It’s not broke.” She said indignantly still trying to pull her hand back.   
“You should have your knuckles wrapped while we travel, less likely to split and it’ll heal faster.” He said as he pulled a small clean handkerchief out and wrapped it around her bruised knuckles, more gently than she thought him capable of. She realized she quit pulling away from his grasp and was staring at him as he worked the fabric around her hand. It was like a tingle at the base of her skull. Curious, uncomfortable and she wasn’t sure she wanted it to stop just yet. He finished his work and looked up to catch her eyes. She turned away quickly.  
“They’re starting to muster, you should be on your horse.” She said cooly as she nudged her mare into moving.  
“Yes, my lady.” He said lowly as he backed away and watched her trot off to the front of the line. “Yeah, your a real hard man Clegane. Made stupid by bratty she-wolf.” He muttered as he mounted his horse. Looking for the back of her head in the crowd.


	11. Chapter 11

They rode in silence. Clegane let her ride in front of him but carefully placed himself so he could herd her towards the center of the line where she could be better defended but he kept out of her line of sight. This was to be his life now. Staring at the back of the little she wolfs head, sometimes he thinks it would have been better to have died at the bottom of that cliff, this life was a new type of torture.  
He’d never wanted for much. The little toy knight had taught him the dangers of wanting anything. So he did what he was told, fought when he told, killed when he was told, and drank away any rewards so there was nothing to lose and no hope for anything more. He no longer swam at the bottom of an ale barrel every night and the consequence was a clear mind that far to often drifted her way.  
Her. He sometimes thinks he should have sunk back into the woods and left her be. She’s ruined him. She’ll always be his weakness and now he has to stand by and watch. Someday some lord will make an offer and she’ll be sent off to wed and he’ll have to watch, stand outside her chamber door while her husband has her. Watch her grow round with pups that belong to her lord husband. If he lives long enough he’ll probably be pawned off on one of the little bastards and he’ll guard it well because it’s hers. He’s pathetic and if he had any brains left he’d go fall on his sword right now. But he won’t. He knows he won’t leave her again as she turns to look over her shoulder and their eyes meet.  
She quickly turns back to face the front of the line. He’s always there. She feels heat creep up her neck and to her cheeks. It shouldn’t matter that he watches her back, he’s a good fighter that’s all. She is Arya Stark, a faceless hand of the house of black and white. He doesn’t matter, not really. She left him behind to die before and she could do it again.  
The whole thing was his fault anyways. She’d tried to help him but he was too stubborn. What did he think would happen to a festering wound? Had he let her tend it properly he might not have ended up at the bottom of the revine begging her to kill him. She’d been cruel to deny him the embrace of death. She told herself he didn’t deserve that kind of peace, better he suffer for his crimes.   
Those were all lies she knows. It wasn’t that she was a hard killer yet and really had a choice in the matter. The truth was she didn’t have it in her to harm him in any real way much less kill him. Curse him, defy him, insult him, yes she could do those things all day but those things didn’t hurt him, not really.  
She couldn’t hurt him, he’d already been hurt by too many for so long she couldn’t. After he told her the story of his scars she couldn’t muster the hate any longer. They’d both lost their childhoods to the violence and selfishness of others. They were more alike than not and if anyone could understand her, maybe it was him. But he’d ruined it with his stubbornness.   
She may not have been able to hurt him but he surely hurt her. Watching him plead to die. Then lashing out to try and coax her into violence. He was settled on dying, leaving her alone. He wanted to leave her behind. So she left him first, screaming her name across the vale.   
She didn’t shed any tears. Not until later. Not until the house of the black and white. They beat her feelings from her, stole the truth from her lips. No she didn’t hate him, not really, not ever. Alone in the night, she let the tears and the truth slip out. She never hated him. She looked over her shoulder once more, his eyes were still upon her. If it wasn’t hate what was it she felt when her eyes met his?


	12. Chapter 12

She was being a right bitch, ignoring everything he said to her. He was used to her foul mouth, she’d always been noisy, not a moment of peace to be had in her company now it was as if he wasn’t even there. If her brother hadn’t gotten himself made king of the north he’d rip her off her horse by the scruff of her neck. Her silence was far more irritating than her insults.  
She was behaving like a child, as if pretending he didn’t exist was some sort of game to her. It went on for days. He was considering asking permission from her brother to sort her out. He thought better of it. If she was trying to annoy him he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know just how good a job she’d done. He better nose around for some ale or wine if it can be found tonight. Drink away the raw nerves she was grating upon.  
They’d set up camp. He’d seen to her tent being set up and that their horses were tended to. It was starting to get late and most the men were finishing their nightly meals, getting ready to start turning in. Jon Snow had set a clipped pace for their travel, not quite a hard march but not a leisurely stroll either. It wouldn’t do to be up all hours and have a surly and tired wolf bitch to deal with the next day but she’d taken off again. She refused to tell him when she was going to wander off. He really should ask her brother if he could get permission to tie her to her horse, his job would be so much easier.   
All he wanted was some peace and quiet and a flagon of wine for the night instead he was off searching for his missing bitch again. When he found her he swore to himself he’d drag her to her tent by that dark hair of hers and toss her on her bed roll. He didn’t care if he sat up all night she was staying in that tent till morning.  
He was approaching the outskirts of the northern men’s tents and there was still not sign of her. He felt a dread wash over him. If he didn’t find her soon he was going to have to saddle his horse and starting searching for her. He was never one for panic but his heart beat a bit faster and he went through the camp.   
Just then he heard her voice clear bright as if someone had rung a bell. He turned towards the sound and followed it off into the wildling’s section of the camp. She laughed a bawdy laugh, he heard men laughing with her. His irritation had turn to anger. What was she playing at down in the wildling’s camp, alone.   
When he finally caught sight of her she was sitting near a fire with a group of wildling’s led by that goofy red headed bastard Jon Snow had taken a liking to. Perfect. She took a long drink from a gourd and passed it down the line to another wildling, sloppily wiping her mouth with the back of hand. She was looking dead at him but still she said nothing .  
Just then the red headed wildling noticed the approaching figure and called out a greeting to him, “ look it’s the dog come to join us. Come sit. Plenty of room.”  
“I’m not here to socialize with wildlings, I come for the girl.”  
“Fuck off dog.”  
“Oh, so you’re speaking to me now are ya girl. Get your ass back to camp or I drag you by your hair.” He growled at her.   
“No. I command you to go back to camp. I’ll go back when I damn well please.” She reached for the gourd again and took another long pull not breaking her gaze from his.  
“That’s it. I’m done playing games with you little wolf bitch.” He rounded on the group of wildlings as he made to snatch her by the arm only for her to throw the gourd in his face. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a drink thrown in his face and though it did slow him it didn’t stop him from catching her.   
The wildlings didn’t make a move against him they just giggled like little girls at the sight of him fighting with the wolf bitch. Finally he got control of her, she was too drunk off the wildling spirits to try her normal theatrics.   
Once he had control of her he threw her over his shoulder and marched her back towards their camp, she bitched most of the way. Right before camp she got quiet and still. Worried at her sudden complacency he pulled her down off his shoulder only to discover she’d passed out. He sighed deeply and carried her the rest of the way in his arms, held close as if she was the most precious thing in the world.


	13. Chapter 13

She awoke to birds chirping so loud it made her teeth hurt. Her mouth was as dry as a desert and the light shining through the seam of her tent was obnoxiously bright. She was feeling rough and it took her a minute to take stock of her situation and how she’d ended up in such a state. Lesson learned, the wildlings home brew was nothing to tangle with. She threw herself back on her bedroll, forearm slung across her eyes, shielding her from the sun’s cheerful assault.  
Just then her tent was slung open and sunlight flooded the interior. “Gah, What the hell. Shut my tent before I gut you.”  
“Oh my lady has seen fit to awaken this morning. Dawns come and gone girl, get your ass up before the whole army up and leaves you.”   
Clegane knelt at the entrance of her tent chomping on an apple as loud and as sloppily as possible. The sound made her want to tear her skin off. “Go away.” She grumbled trying to hide her face from the morning sun.  
“Not likely.” Sandor tossed the finished apple core off into the brush. “not after that stunt you pulled last night. You know how wildlings get their women? They steal them, take them by force. And you just decide it’s a good idea to go off into a den of the mad fuckers to get sloshed on that shit they brew. How stupid are you?”  
“I was with Tormund. I was hardly in danger and what I do and who I do it with is none of your concern, I can handle myself so fuck off already, the sound of your voice is making me ill.” Arya spat.  
“No, no my lady. I’m not letting you out of my sight again. You’re going to get your ass up and on your horse so your shit can get packed up. Tormund might not be a total piece of shit but the same can’t be said about the rest of them, stay the fuck out of their camp. I don’t want to have to slaughter bunch of wildlings to make sure you aren’t violated or end up a spearwife.” Sandor tossed her a hunk of bread and a skin full of water before turning his back on her.  
Arya sat up and threw the skin at the back of his head. “You’re not my father, I don’t belong to you!” She yelled at him as she threw the bread at him next, “I don’t answer to you,” she was seething. “ I hate you!” She lobbed a whet stone she had in the corner of her tent. He turned back to her smacking the objects away as she threw them at him.  
“That’s it!” He growled and lunged at her, following her all the way in her tent. He grabbed at her wrists, still small and delicate as he remembered and yanked her towards him as he knelt in her tent. He pressed her to his chest pinning her arms between them. She tried prying her way away from him but in a confined space with his reach there was nowhere to go. Once he had her held tight, not an easy feat with one arm, he used the other to grab her by the hair on the nape of her neck, as he would a wild beast by its scruff. He pulled to angle her face towards his. He was angry to be sure but he wouldn’t hurt her. He knew she could wound him as much as she liked and he’d stay like a good dog. Bratty little bitch had ruined him. Just as quickly as he realized his doom he pushed her away and left her tent without another word or backwards glance.   
She sat in silence till one the men came to collect her things. She helped break down her tent and readied her horse. The line started to move and she along with it. Suddenly the bright morning seemed cooler and sharper. She picked at the bread she’d thrown at him, settling the waves in her stomach to a heavy pit. She looked over her shoulder where her shield and shadow always lingered but none was there.


	14. Chapter 14

Arya rode all day without Sandor Clegane’s shadow on her back. By evening he still hadn’t reappeared, not even to scold her or boss her about. She dined with her brother, and went to lay in her tent far earlier than she normally did. An hour passed, then another, she listened for his heavy steps or muffled grumbling about this or the other. None came.   
Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. If anything he was derelict in his duties, besides there was more to it than that. She didn’t know what it was, she couldn’t bring herself to admit she didn’t mean what she said. She didn’t know how to say as much but she didn’t want him to disappear from her life again even if she’d told him otherwise a million times since they were reunited. Why couldn’t she just say it? Everytime the words stuck in throat and changed to something spiteful, as if she had no control.   
She decided to search for her wayward shield. She made her round through the camps discretely searching for his hulking form. She’d ventured farther out near the wildlings again when she caught sight of a familiar face, just not the one she was searching for. Tormund’s perpetually lecherous grin greeted her as he tied his horse up near sturdy sapling as she approached.  
“What’s Jon Snow’s baby sister doing out so late and all alone? You know a few of my kin have their sights on you, fine little spearwife you’d make.” Tormund teased her as they walked forwards the center of his camp near the fire.  
“And I could ask you what you were off doing in the middle of the night, maybe your spearwife should get a better handle on you.” Arya smirked.  
“Did you know that women with do all sorts of things to a man if you pay them in those little pieces of gold, you think us backwards but you folk make no sense at all, gold don’t fill a belly or warm a hearth.” Arya cocked a sleek eyebrow at the red headed wildling as he sat on fallen tree near the fire. He continued,” a whole house full of them, half dressed, bosoms out, even fucking in the hallways, your people have strange ways.” He shook his head as he offered her another helping of their strange brew. Arya politely declined the offer of wicked wildling ale.  
“Never been to a brothel before Tormund?” Arya asked absently as she sat on the log next to him.  
“Brothel eh? That what they’re called?” He asked before taking another drink. “No, don’t make sense to, besides I have my eye on the blonde lady knight. We wildlings don’t fuck around if we’ve got a woman already, good way to get your balls cut off.” He slapped his leg, practically giggling to himself. “ I’m surprised at you little she-wolf”  
Arya jerked her head at the nickname, a reminder of reason she was out here in the first place, the familiarity brought a blush to her face. He was the only one who called her that. “What did you just call me?”  
“She-wolf, it’s what you are isn’t it? That’s what the big dog calls you anyways, it suits you.” Tormund took another pull off the gourd of ale.  
“Yes, he does.” She held a pause before she turned to Tormund again. “ Speaking of the Dog,Tormund, you wouldn’t have happened across him today would you? As big as he is you’d think he’d be easier to track.”  
Tormund laughed deep and loud, “Yeah, like I said I’m surprised, I figured you’d keep a better leash on your man. Didn’t figure you’d allow him to go of some pleasure house, brothel, whatever it is you folk call it.”  
“He’s at a brothel? That’s where he’s been all day?” Arya tried to keep her voice even and her face relaxed as she stared at the brush on the other wise of the fire.   
“Aye, most of the day anyways, caught him on his way out decided to keep him company, mostly to bother him but also I was just bored.” Tormund popped a berry in his mouth before he went on. “ He was in mood too. Once we got to the place and I saw all the women I was confused why he’d go to such a place when he could just lay with his own woman.”  
“ I am not his woman, I don’t belong to any man, get that straight wildling.” Arya stood with her hand on her dagger.  
“ I meant no disrespect,”he said as he raised his hands in surrender, “you two aren’t fucking?” Tormund raised an eyebrow before popping another berry in his mouth. “Really? Hmm. I don’t understand you people, you’re all confusing.”  
“Why would you even think that?” Arya felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.  
“Because men like him don’t usually bend themselves around the little fingers of a woman unless she’s his other half. He hovers around you as if you’re the sun and the moon. He’s got those sad eyes but they’re less sad when he’s staring you, which is almost always.”   
“He’s my shield he’s supposed to watch me.”  
“Sure he is. I’m sure I was mistaken, so why you out here looking for him then?”  
Sometimes wildings were too damn smart for their own good, Arya stomped off back to her tent and let her anger simmer to a low boil as she drifted off to sleep in the small hours.  
Sandor made his way back to camp not long after coming up the back of the line where the wildlings camped. Tormund was still drinking his brew by the fire as Sandor walked his horse past.  
“ Oh dog, bout time you made it back, your little she-wolf was out looking for you!” Tormund beamed across the fire. Sometimes Sandor really wished the dragon would have accidentally ate that red headed bastard. Before he could tell the wildling to fuck off for the thousandth time. “Oh don’t worry Dog, I told her where you were. Wouldn’t want her worrying.” Sandor stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to the wildling.  
“You did what!”


	15. Chapter 15

Sandor wanted to wring the life from Tormund’s body as he stared back at the grinning red headed goon. He strode over to the fallen log and grabbed Tormund by his fur collar. “Why in seven hells did you tell her where I went, what business did you have even talking to her?Did you go run to tattle on me like a petty child as soon as you got back?”Sandor was snarling but Tormund still wore his usual look of bemusement.   
“She was out and about late at night all alone looking for her lost dog. What was I to do? I didn’t want her to worry herself when I knew you to be well and fine.” Tormund was still grinning not in the least affected by Sandor’s ire. “If you ask me you two should really sort your shit out.”  
“Well it’s good no one asked the bloody opinion of some wildling ginger cunt like you anyhow.”  
“ Now Now Dog, you should go find your woman, go kill something for her, nothing tames an angry bitch like a nice warm meal. Then maybe she’ll let you lay with her and you wouldn’t be in such a bad mood all the time.”  
“What in the fuck are you talking about? She ain’t my woman and she’s meant to sold off to some highborn lord, if any of us live that long.” Sandor let go of Tormund and stood with his back to the fire.  
“You people are so strange. You want that girl, and she wants you back but you both act like you don’t know anything about anything.” The wildling took the last swig of the ale in his gourd and tossed it out into the darkness.” We get called savage but at least we ain’t stupid. If we want someone we don’t hide it like it’s something shameful.”  
“It is shameful. She’s not for someone like me. Her blood’s about the noblest in the land, she won’t be wasted on a soldier. She’ll go to a lord or a prince.” Sandors shoulders dropped and he looked up at the black sky.  
“You think so?” Tormund asked. “She doesn’t seem like the type to be handed off, she’ll choose who she mates with or else I think they’d end up gutted on the floor.”  
“Aye, she’s always had a vicious little temper.” Sandor chuckled to himself as he took a spot of the log. “Don’t matter though, she deserves better than me. I’ve got nothing to offer her. No lands, no titles worth having, no money. All I’ve got is my steel and someday I’ll die by it. No, I got nothing to give the girl. What I want don’t matter. What matters is that she’s taken care of, better than I did when I had her.”  
“ I think your wrong dog. I think she deserves someone who’d die fighting at her back. Someone who thinks she’s more than just a pretty bauble to be bought and sold.” Tormund then got up, gave Sandor a nod and trudged off to his tent to pass out for the night. Sandor have one more upward glance then resumed his march back to their camp. Tomorrow was going to have to bring change one way or another.   
He sighed as he laid out his bedroll near the front of her tent, too late to set up his own. He’d had worse and he was too on edge to sleep anyways. He just wanted to be near her. Funny thing is he went to the brothel but he didn’t even get anything out of it. He’d had a mind to go fuck out his frustrations since fighting it out wasn’t an option but there wasn’t anything there for him. He’d never been picky. The women never fawned over him so his visits to brothels were more function than fantasy.   
He’d get the itch, go get it scratched and be on his way. This time though, it was all wrong. All he could see was her dark hair and wintery eyes. He was pissed off at her but he’d still choose her above anything else in the world. She didn’t give a shit but he still couldn’t bring himself to take a whore upstairs. He ended up sitting in the corner a while sipping cheap shitty wine. Now look at him. She thought the worst of him.   
He looked towards the flap of her tent and wanted nothing more than to lay beside her but she’d probably try and stab him. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, willing himself to drift off into a light doze. Soon the morning would come and he’d have to face her again. What would he say to her? A lie? Or the truth? He was hopelessly in love with her.


End file.
